


The End of the Chase.

by watfordslarry



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Boys Kissing, Hate, Kissing, Love, M/M, Magicians, Watford (Simon Snow), vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 12:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watfordslarry/pseuds/watfordslarry
Summary: He pulls back. Then he looks at me. I just look back, not sure what else to do with myself.“Crowley,” I breathe.-or where Simon finally catches Baz coming out of the catacombs, and doesn't turn him in.





	The End of the Chase.

**Baz**

 

I look for anyone wandering around as I exit the catacombs, then step all of the way out. I turn and almost go to walk away, but a voice interrupts me. “I knew you go down there at night,” I freeze in my spot. I don’t know whether to turn around or whether to run, but either one isn’t going to get me anywhere good.

“What do you want, Snow?” I turn slowly, dreadfully.

He stands there a few feet away, awkwardly, his arms hanging by his side and his feet almost crossed. It looks as if he’s holding in his piss, but from knowing him for so long I can tell that he just stopped walking at a weird angle. It’s always been as if he couldn’t control his own feet, or else he wouldn’t be standing like an idiot.

“I…” he looks down for a split second and fixes his footing. He looks at me, but not  _ at _ me. His eyes won’t meet my own, and I can’t tell whether he’s scared or nervous, but it seems to be one of the two. “I saw you eating... a few nights ago, uhm, in the woods,” he looks to the side.

I stammer on what I want to say. It’s the one thing I never want to do, beg to Snow, but it’s the only thing I can get out. “Don’t tell,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, “I… you can’t tell anyone,” I sigh, trying to stand taller than I am to keep some of my dignity.

He furrows his eyebrows, his mouth fishing open and closed. He brings his fingers to his lips, pinching his bottom lip. “Have you ever killed anyone?” his voice is quiet, and he seems fearful. I don’t like it. “You know, to, uh, drink their blood?” he’s so uncomfortable with the question, and I don’t blame him.

I shake my head, rolling my knuckles together. A nervous habit. “No. Only animals.”

Snow builds up the courage to look me in the eyes, and once they’re locked in he doesn’t look away. “Would you? Ever kill someone, that is?” I must give him a nasty look, because he mutters a quick “sorry” to me.

“I- no,  _ god _ no, idiot. The only person I would ever kill on  _ purpose _ is whoever killed my mother. I… I’m one of  _ them _ , but I’m not a  _ monster.” _

“A vampire.”

I want to roll my eyes.  _ So _ bad.  _ So so _ bad. “Yes.”

  
  


**Simon**

 

“But you’d never kill a person,” I say.

Baz nods.

I furrow my eyebrows, chewing on my lip.

I always knew it. I’ve called it for years, and whether or not people believed me or not, they never said anything.

Baz is a vampire.

But he’s not what everyone says he is. What they are. Who they were. He’s a vampire, sure, but he’s no monster.

I give a slight shrug and push my fingers through my curls, “Then there’s no point,” he stares at me, “there’s no point in turning you in,” I look down at my feet.

  
  


**Baz**

 

It seems like whatever he’s going to say is going to kill him to admit, but he says it anyway, “I always knew. I guess, kind of. Not for sure, but I had my evidence and reasons. But I… I wasn’t ever going to actually turn you in and have you killed, I don’t think. We have this stupid hate game, but the moment one of us wins, it’s over, and then you realize there’s no point in it. It’s all about the chase, you know?” he wears a broken smile, “so, I wasn’t ever going to turn you in for real.”

I don’t know what makes me do it. I feel like an idiot- no, I  _ am _ an idiot, when it comes to this kind of thing. My thoughts are running and jumping up the fucking wall.

  
  


**Simon**

 

He’s looking at me like he always does. Intensely and like he wants to lunge at me. Except the only scary difference is that for once it doesn’t look like he wants to hurt me, and I don’t know what to do about it. He looks soft, which never happens, and it makes me want to slap away all of the near-death experiences we’d put each other in in the past.

He takes a few steps forward. Small ones. My hands are shaking. I’m desperate to know what he’s thinking.

  
  


**Baz**

 

Fuck fuck fuck. I don’t know what I’m thinking, or doing, or… why I moved three steps ahead. Why did I move? Do I really want to make a stupid move and ruin my life? Do I really want to humiliate myself? Do I even get a say in what I’m doing right now? I don’t even know. 

  
  


**Simon**

 

I’m holding my breath. Baz is scaring me. But not in a way that makes me think he’s going to hurt me. He’s scaring me because I feel like I know what he’s going to do, and I don’t know how to go on with it. I don’t know if I want it or if I’ll like it or if I’ll be able to even handle it.

He’s closer than I think we’ve ever been without hurting each other. His face is closer than I can deal with, and when I catch him glance at my mouth I want to run away and push my body at him all at once.

He pulls back. Then he looks at me. I just look back, not sure what else to do with myself.

“Crowley,” I breathe.

  
  


**Baz**

 

He barely speaks.

I let out a breath, and pull him to me by the neck. I kiss him.

  
  


**Simon**

 

He’s kissing me.

My eyes go wide before I shut them, and I’m not sure what to do with my hands, but they automatically go to his chest. My fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it tight. Our lips are slotted, and it feels like forever before Baz moves his mouth. It doesn’t even feel familiar. The times I had kissed Agatha, I was “in charge”. But this is all Baz.

His hand is on the side of my face, and he tilts his head. My back is arched a tiny bit, and even though he’s not, it feels like he’s bending me over from how forcefully he’s pushing his lips onto mine. I try my best to keep up, but eventually I pull away, breathing hard. My hands are shaking, and have somehow made their way to his face, how his had been on mine before, except now his are on my waist and my back. My thumb is on the corner of his bottom lip, and he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s different. So different. But it feels good, and if it’s wrong, than I’m fine with not being right for once.

  
  


**Baz**

 

I can feel the heat radiating off of him, even after he’s pulled away from the kiss. I’m scared to open my eyes. Scared that none of this is actually going to be real when I open them, because let’s be honest, Simon Snow and I have not always been on good terms. No matter how long I’ve loved him.

“You’re cold,” he whispers.

I want to put my forehead on his, even with the height difference. I want him to tuck his head into my neck. To sink into my arms, as stupid as that sounds. I want him to come to me, want me. All the cooped up feelings are begging to barge out, but I won’t let them. Not yet.

His curls hang over his forehead. I push them out of his eyes with my finger, and when I bring my hand down I put it on his waist, where his trousers meet his shirt. I want to put my hands on his bare skin, and feel the heat of his body against the coldness of my own.

“I’m dead,” I tell him.

_ Fuck _ . Major mood killer.

He looks up at me. His eyes scan over my face, at my hair, that he pushes back as he bites his lip on instinct. “No you’re not,” he looks frustrated, “you wouldn’t care enough if you were.”

“You’re going to get hurt kissing me,” I mumble, “one day. Maybe not today, but one day I’m going to accidentally hurt you,” I tell him.

He dismisses it, “Shut  _ up _ , Baz, I honestly don’t care right now. I… I’m not saying you’re not going to hurt me, because sure, maybe it could happen, but right now I could care less.”

I’m not sure what to say. Whether I kiss him again or keep talking. I don’t want things to get awkward between us, not that they would, but I’m at a loss. “We should go back. To our room,” I glance at the Mummers House, or the back of it, really. He does too, for a second, then nods.

“Okay,” he lets his hands fall to his sides. My body itches to feel him against me again. “Kiss me tomorrow, please,” he starts walking. I can tell he wants to look back to see if I’m coming, so I jog up and spell fire into my hands for light, keeping my pace behind him and thinking of all the ways I can kiss him tomorrow.


End file.
